Chapter 9 – Reapers
Priscilla Schneider was now 3 years old and she was admitted as a preschooler in one of the best prep schools in the whole of Los Angeles County. It was a school for the elite’s children and Guss and Augustine were certainly in the elite list. The little girl had everything one wanted, rich parents, a doting mother and a supposedly caring father too. The school was paradise for little Priscilla, but things change very fast.
The Sergeant’s gruesome murder had sent chills down his accomplices’ spines in the ordinance depot and they were caught between the devil and the deep sea. They could not approach their seniors or the cops as they themselves had the blood of innocents on their hands and they could not confront Guss, who had grown very powerful now and had graduated to dealing with senators and Generals in the lucrative arms smuggling business and the lower echelons were left to fend for themselves in the cold annals of the cruel money world.
Guss had to be thought a lesson for forsaking them, leaving them in the lurch. Depriving them of their dream life was probably the greatest sin, Guss had committed and this would prove rather too costly for him.
Lt. Sam Perez of the 125th Paratroopers and posted in the ordinance depot was a major influence among the syndicate members. Guss had to pay. Period.
Their agenda was simple. Make an example out of Guss. No one should take the men in uniform lightly.
Their mode of operation had to be swift, giving too little time for their foe to think and to take cover.
The men of the armed forces were deadly killing machines themselves, they were trained by hardened war veterans and hardcore trainers to survive the most inane, the most punishing of environments and the most dominating of adversaries. They could disappear in the forest, snow, and desert alike and they were expert recons.
“Alright, James, you will be on trail, Guss’s wife Augustine Schessman – Schneider. It has to be lightning fast. You will fly to Beirut on Pan Am 227 tomorrow at 1030 hrs. Any doubts” Sam Perez directed his subordinate Pvt. James Fillimore and handed over an envelope with a portrait of Augustine. An acclaimed Hollywood director shooting in far off Arab land would not be hard to find.
“Frank, Stephen Rudolph. Show no mercy” Sam handed over an obscure photograph of Guss’s trusted Lieutenant. Guss had not intended to hide his identity. He had wanted to send a clear message to anyone who had panicked and wanted to blow the lid. He had gone berserk with the heady mixture of power and fortune. He had assumed he was invincible. He had been very mature when he was without money. Fortune had made him a little less mature. He had faltered.
“You better go under the hood till things cool down here. It’s very hot here right now. I have been warned. I can manage my back. No one can come within a hundred meters of me. I will contact you when the time comes. Here take this” Guss directed his henchman to go incognito for a while till the police hounds lost the scent trail. He did not want his thriving business to go awry just because some old Sergeant could not keep his mouth shut.
“They won’t need to come within a hundred meters of you, boss” Stephen said in a cold manner.
“Like I said, I can take care of myself, now get going” Guss shove away his trusted aide.
“I will take care of that bastard myself, Privates Cooke and Guerrero; you shall be my eyes and ears. His mansion will be well guarded. We need to use the cover of night. Be sure that no friendlies are involved in this op” Sam likened the assassination operation to a sanctioned legal one. “No sanctioned guns. Strictly off the streets. Frank?” Sam nodded at Frank Simmons.
“It’s been arranged sir, the contact will transfer the consignment at the scheduled rendezvous point at 0100 hrs” Frank rattled out in typical military fashion.
Frank’s brother Timothy Simmons was an LA police officer and he knew the streets rather too well. It was like the whole family was corrupt. He would usually collect from his brother some guns, semis and magazines at the rendezvous point, which was just an old abandoned aquarium, but this time, he was the delivery man, he was delivering the murder weapons.
After the exchange was made successfully, James leaves for Beirut on board Pan Am 227. He did not require carrying a gun. His instructions were dire.
Frank had already hired a man to tail Stephen, and while it was like walking on thin ice for Stephen, Frank had the task cut out for him.
Sam Perez was very clear in his instructions to his team. The targets are not just be killed, they should all be reminders to anybody who would take their syndicate lightly. The killings have to be most brutal & repulsive in their execution.
James landed at the Beirut International Airport at 1200 hours local time and was escorted by their contact who had arrived from Algiers just that morning. He would be provided the directions for his return path along with tickets that were booked earlier. James was given two days to review his position and strike at the most opportune moment. 48 hours was all that Augustine Schessman – Schneider & her magnum opus had.
Sam Perez along with Privates Cooke and Guerrero set up shop at the Beverley Hills avenue where the Schessman – Schneider mansion stood imposing. The assassin trio could watch a couple of burly men with concealed arms doing the rounds in the mansion’s lawns. Guss was not to be intimated. His business interests were more important than anything else for him. He had never suspected that the betrayed syndicate would also target his wife and trusted lieutenant.
To err is human; not to correct your err is just deadly.
Stephen had taken refuge in a small ranch run by her sister’s husband in Jersey. Alice and Ronald were simple farm folk living with their two small children Peter & John in Ronald’s family ranch a good 250 Km from the Manhattan Island. They were leading a peaceful life which was about to be ruined by a storm which Stephen had brought along.
Frank too had two days to execute his targets. He took one full day for a brief recon along with some of his trusted aides and hatched a plan on the spot.
Meanwhile in Beirut, James noticed that Augustine took a solitary walk on the Beirut University campus every day at work. He noticed her on the day of arrival and a brief chat with her chauffer confirmed that she had been doing this ever since she had come to Beirut. It was so easy.
Sam Perez could easily make out that the gunmen out on Guss’s lawns were no cops or servicemen. They were mafia. So, snipping them off would not set the whole state on them.
Despite putting up a brave front, Guss was a worried man. Executing the Sergeant was his Waterloo. Unfortunately, he knew it and he could approach no one to bail him out. His former associates in the armed forces had turned against him and the Generals and Senators had washed their hands clean off him. His image of a film producer and the spouse of a famous film maker had turned against him since he could not even exploit the dozens of photographs he had with the Generals and Senators. After all, what was their crime? Meeting with a film producer? Come on!
Guss, had no real feelings for Augustine, but he treasured his daughter Priscilla and she meant something special to him. While he still carried on with his deadly underground businesses, he had grown a tender vein in his heart and it would bleed if Priscilla was hurt.
Guss, therefore had sent away Priscilla from the school to his brother Benjamin’s house in Tel Aviv, Israel. Being a former Zionist himself had helped him reconnect with some of his acquaintances in the Zionist club and had managed to send across his daughter to far away Israel.
Benjamin had joined the Israeli Secret Service in Tel Aviv but continued with his father’s business of Kosher food and used it as an effective cover. He now lived with their mother and his wife Edna. They did not have any children of their own and he readily welcomed little Priscilla into his home.
Back in Jersey, Frank laid waiting for his prey along with two of his associates, mercenaries themselves. Frank’s weapon of choice; a beret.
It was a fine Thursday evening and Ronald was busy in the ranch’s barn tending to his dozen cows and two horses. Alice was held up in the kitchen cooking up dinner. The kids Peter and John were playing with sticks near the corn field while their Uncle Stephen kept watch over them with a cold face. Stephen was oblivious to the impending danger to his life.
“Ray, to the barn, take the crow bar” instructed Frank to one of his associates, who slithered away to the barn with a standard crow bar.
“Rocky, you enter the house from behind, take care of things inside” Frank directed his other associate.
“God Bless America” Frank said to himself just as he lunges forward towards the patio where Frank is observing his two nephews playing blissfully.
“Here you go Madame” a street side vendor hands over a can of tart soda to Augustine who had made it a habit to sip the carbonated drink while resting on her favorite bench in the sprawling parks of the Beirut University campus. The lawns usually looked deserted in the evenings as they were close to the library and the classrooms, while most of the students would be either out in the city or inside their rooms in the hostels.
James shadowed her closely till they reached her favorite spot in the university campus.
“Private Cooke, Private Guerrero, I shall be entering the mansion from behind, it is probably guarded too, I will manage, take out the two bulls on the front. Remember! I shouldn’t hear gunshots! It has to be flawless” Sam directed his two Privates.
At the rear of the mansion, Sam’s guess was right, but his calculation was wrong. It was guarded but a little more heavily. It had to be a shock and awe attack. He had to give minimum time for the guards to react.
Augustine settled herself on the green wooden lawn bench and relaxed, sinking in the beauty of the sinking sun.
“Good Evening Madam” James introduced himself to Augustine who greeted the towering Sergeant with a smile.
“Good Evening” Augustine replied with a look of wonder.
“I am a great admirer, Ma’am, of your works” James flattered her.
“Thank you sir, are you American too?” questioned Augustine.
“Yes, May I?” James pointed his four fingers towards an open spot on the bench. “Of course, how rude of me” Augustine shifted a little left in a symbolic gesture to allow James to sit.
“So what brings you here?” said James
“Oh, it’s really nothing, I just wanted to get out of the LA traffic for once” giggled Augustine who did not want to disclose about her venture and her identity, since she was used to wannabe actors and actresses trying out antiques just to impress her. Americans and Europeans were common sight in Beirut & Augustine was just weary of strangers these days.
“I am sure you are here for a movie shoot, eh Madam?” winked James.
Augustine was all the while caught in the beauty of the changing colors of the sky from bright orange to crimson red to pink, while she was surprised by her new companion’s guess work.
Even before she could react and turn towards him for a response, James had got up from his position, saw that Augustine had let her guard down and in a swift action, fitting a battle hardened Sergeant, removed his 8” army issue beret from a concealed holster and drove its edges deep into Augustine’s tender throat. The sun set, engulfing the Beirut University campus in a shell of darkness and took Augustine along with it.
James had disappeared from the scene with the murder weapon. It seemed like Augustine was slayed by a ghost. There was no trace of humanity both at the scene of crime and in James, who slit the throat of an innocent just to set an example.
Augustine stared at the cold sky, colorless and dark with her eyes. They say that the eyes live for a while even after the soul departs. They had a story to narrate and it was a pity there was none to listen.
Jersey: Ray had slid into the barn unnoticed through an opening in the barn’s attic. He saw Ronald, humming a tune and feeding his cows and his horses. The wily mercenary slowly down the far side of the barn and was in Ronald’s hindsight. The sudden entry of a stranger inside the barn took it’s inmates into a frenzy and the cows and the horses started mooing and neighing like crazy. A confused Ronald had little time to come to terms with the sudden outburst of his stock and oblivious to his murderer behind him.
A fast swing of Ray’s arm and the crow bar’s hooked end latched onto Ronald’s neck, his own blood entering the ruptured wind pipe and choking him slowly. Ray was instructed to show no mercy and he did just that. In a cold action, Ray pulled away the crow bar from Ronald that pulled more flesh and blood spurted all over the place. It was a most horrible end for a peaceful farmer. The actions of a vice man does not spare his kith and kin.
Ricky had successfully entered the house by opening a window in the couple’s bedroom above the living room, like a cat, he entered the kitchen below and saw the unsuspecting Alice with her back towards him. No remorse, no regret, Ricky was a paid mercenary and he killed to live. Ricky’s machete proved too much for Alice. Ricky’s strong left arm clasped her mouth to prevent her from letting out even a whimper, it was tight enough to smother her to her death, but it would be no example. His other free hand slashed into Alice’s back and broke the spinal cord, instantly killing her, while bacon and beans burnt on the stove.
Frank’s ‘boys’ had completed their act. It was now left to Frank. ‘Frank the Bull’ he was called by his peers in the 125th Paratroopers.
Stephen was the perpetrator of the crime. He was Guss’s hands. He was soaked in the Sergeant’s blood. Death would not come easy for him. He would die a slow tortuous death and he would have an audience too.
Ray from the barn side, Ricky from inside and Frank from behind had cornered Stephen who was completely lost in thought as he sat passively watching his nephews play. His focus was shattered only when he noticed that both Peter and John had stopped playing and looked at him with confused faces.
“Enjoying your stay Sir?” Frank taunted at Stephen as Ricky and Ray watched with eyes that were carved out of stone.
“Look! He could have compromised the whole racket for God’s sake! It was just my job” Stephen was trying to reason out with his killers. He was heavily outnumbered and outflanked. He had no escape route and he was still thinking of his sister and brother in law’s safety, for he was unaware of their horrific ends.
“So is this!” Frank’s long machete made a deep cut on Stephen’s torso and he immediately collapsed to the ground screaming in horror and pain.
Frank then took out a pen knife from his jacket pocket. Sam wanted Stephen to suffer. Frank, Ray and Ricky inflicted a hundred cuts all over Stephen’s body, which would slowly bleed him to death. It was an old Chinese execution style called ‘Slow Slicing’.
Stephen lay on the dirt, bleeding from a thousand cuts and he could see the light before him dimming and the voices getting denser and thicker, just when a heavy kick to his chin jolted him from his trance due to severe lack of oxygen being transported to the brain. Frank’s boots smashed Stephen’s jaw line and it fell apart from Stephen’s skull. He had left.
The three murderers then set the barn and the house on fire, before setting fire to the fields. The kids were spared to narrate a story to the world.
Meanwhile, in LA, it was night and Sam, Cooke and Guerrero had the perfect cover of darkness. The trained paratrooper hopped from rooftops and over hedges and gained entry to Guss’s mansion. A silencer fitted onto his ‘Berretta Tomcat’ exceeded his expectations and in a trained action he staved off the three mafia men guarding the mansion’s back.
Cooke and Guerrero had easily overpowered the burly looking mafia men and had driven 6” long sharpened iron bolts through the back of their necks. This had to look like an execution and the cops would suspect a rival gang since the dead were mafia.
Inside the mansion, Guss lay huddled on his bed sweating profusely and shivering with absolute terror. He could now see the spirits of his victims haunt him, he was hallucinating. He was hearing screams, screams of pain and terror, so loud that it would split his head in two. His heart beat so fast that he thought it would rip through his skin and fall to the tiled floor.
“Ralph, are you there? Is everything fine down with you guys?” Guss took the radio caller to speak to the men guarding him at the back. All he could hear was the sound of the radio static.
“Ralph, what the hell is happening? God dammit! Louts! Imbeciles!” Guss cursed at the absence of a response.
“Mark, come in, Mark!” yelled Guss by turning the radio knob to a different frequency to speak to the two men at the front. Static.
“Save your breath Guss” Sam Perez startled the already shaking Guss who promptly leapt for the door.
“No use resisting” said Sam.
“Listen, I have a safe full of stash, all yours, here’s the key” Guss was trying to buy out his life.
“Take it to hell” said Sam while he raised a metallic baseball bat that he had borrowed from the mafia men below. The blow was so severe that it split open Guss’s skull and there was blood all over, but he was still alive, too terrified to let out a scream.
Sam held him the scruff of his collar and dragged him down the stairs staining the expensive carpets with Guss’s blood to the bathroom below. Cooke and Guerrero had made the arrangements as planned. The marble bath tub had been filled with scalding hot water. Sam undressed Guss and threw him into the tub; the steam from which had filled the bathroom like a blanket of mist.
Guss body reacted violently to the temperatures and he screamed like he had never screamed before. Sam pressed hard the baseball bat on Guss’s head and drowned him in the boiling water. He did not let go till he saw pieces of skin fall apart and float up from Guss’s face. Guss’s end was extremely violent, but perhaps the spirits of the countless innocent that had been felled by the arms he had supplied found it justified.
The syndicate had set a deadly example.
Little Priscilla was all alone in the world. In faraway Tel Aviv, the 3 year old held onto her aunt’s hand as she bought bread in the local market, smiling, smelling the warm baked flour, and not knowing she was now an orphan in foreign land.
“It’s been done. Yes. All three of them” Lt. Sam Perez put the phone off the hook.